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“Are you sure that it’s fine?”, John asked once again, picking up his medical bag from the floor. “I can try to call Mrs Hudson again…”
Sherlock dismissed his worries with a distressed look. “Don’t you dare disturb her while she plays poker! She will accuse us of being in league with Ms. Hayden, and then she won’t prepare me breakfast for a week! Furthermore, I can watch over my god-daughter with both eyes closed… I’m a consulting detective, therefore I planned in advance for all contingencies. Go to your clinic and do whatever boring thing you do there, Rosie and I will be perfectly fine!”
One hour later
“If you’re doing it in retaliation for that time that I said that you looked ridiculous with that pink hat, I’m warning you that it’s not working!”. Sherlock shouted, and Rosie’s cry turned up to the max.
The consulting detective looked exhausted: he had tried feeding her mashed food, changing her nappies, playing silly lullabies with his violin, rocking her in his arms for over an hour… Nothing. She had woken up an hour after her father left 221 B, and after he fed her, she had not stopped crying. He admired her perseverance, but at the same time, he was starting to worry: maybe she was in pain, and her crying was the only way she could communicate to the world.
Sherlock was starting to contemplate the idea to call John, and admit his defeat, when his phone rang.
“Please tell me that you’re not in Oxford any more…”, he implored, and Molly laughed. “I was away only for a week, Sherlock… Right now I’m at that Greek restaurant you hate, to order some take-away… Sherlock, who is howling? Is it Rosie?”
“Yes… I did everything I could! She’s not hungry, her diaper is clean, she doesn’t want to sleep, or play, or to listen to me playing the violin… And she usually loves when I play for her!”
Sherlock’s voice sounded so distressed, that Molly couldn’t help but smile. He really loved the baby, and it broke her heart to hear how helpless and frustrated he sounded.
“Try to resist for ten minutes, I’m coming!”. She hung up, not even waiting for Sherlock’s reply, and sprinted outside to find a cab.
True to her words, ten minutes later she was at his door. She used the key that Mrs Hudson had given her years ago, and climbed the stairs two at a time, following Rosie’s desperate cry.
“I’m here…”, she breathed out, and Sherlock beamed at her, offering the wailing baby to her pathologist.
“Oh, angel, what’s happening to you? Are you in pain?” she asked the infant, while rocking her in her arms, soothingly caressing her back. Nothing changed, so Molly headed to Sherlock’s bedroom, and started to undress Rosie, to examine her.
“No ear infection, her heartbeat seems regular, no scratches on her eyes…”, she started to list, while Sherlock watched her from the threshold. She touched her tummy, then dressed her up again, and moved to the kitchen to find the baby bottle.
“Sherlock, do you know if John had changed her formula?” Molly asked, and the consulting detective nodded, Rosie once again in his arms. “Well, he brought a different one here from the clinic yesterday, so I used it to feed her when she woke up.”
“Well, her tummy is a bit gassy, so maybe her discomfort is due to the fact that you changed the formula. I read that sometimes it works, for colicky babies, to let them lay tummy-down across your lap…”
She moved to the sofa, sat down, followed by Sherlock, who lent her the baby. The new position seemed to help, and Sherlock and Molly remained silent until Rosie’s eyes started to close, and she finally fell asleep.
Carefully, Molly brought her to Sherlock’s bedroom to let her rest in her cradle; when she returned to the living room, she found Sherlock with his head between his hands, looking at the floor.
“Sherlock, are you ok?” She sat down next to him, waiting for him to say a word.
Finally, he let out a shaky breath, and answered. “It was my fault… I used a formula I didn’t test beforehand, and now Rosie is suffering because of me.”
“Oh, Sherlock… It’s not your fault. It could have happened to John, or to Mrs Hudson, or to me- and believe me, the fact that you test baby formulas, it shows how much you care about Rosie.” Molly paused, and tentatively caressed his curls. “One day, you’ll be a great dad, Sherlock Holmes.”
The consulting detective raised his head, and looked straight into her eyes. “Do you believe it?”
Molly held his gaze. “Have I ever lied to you, Sherlock?”
“Never.”
“Then trust me; I’m sure that you’ll be the most caring and scrupulous father a child could wish for.”
“Only if I will have by my side a loving and doting mother like you”, Sherlock said, while admiring the blush blossoming on Molly’s cheeks.
“Sherlock, I-”. Her reply was halted by the sound of John entering the room.
“Molly, hi! I thought you were still in Oxford for the conference… Wait, did I interrupt something?”
“Yes!”, Sherlock argued, and Molly’s blush turned crimson. John looked between the two, and headed to Sherlock’s bedroom. “I’m checking on Rosie… Please wait until I’m ready to leave with my daughter, to continue whatever you were doing before!”
“Then hurry up!”, Sherlock sassed back to him, and Molly scolded him. “Sherlock, don’t be rude to John!”
“Well, your dilated pupils and your elevated pulse tell me that you want to start working on the project “Our children” as much as I want to… And even if I love Rosie and John is like a brother to me, I would like them out of my bedroom before we start having s-”
“Fine, you’re right!” Molly conceded, before she sprinted to the bedroom. “John, let me help you!”